


Faithless

by TheFoxInWhite



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Everyone Has Issues, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFoxInWhite/pseuds/TheFoxInWhite
Summary: Jason Todd and his comments linger on Dick's mind, made worse when Jason returns for more antagonism. They're Bats, of course it ends with a fight





	Faithless

**Author's Note:**

> This is over 3000 words of an angry blowjob. No, I have no shame.

_Who the fuck are you?_

 

He's Robin.

 

He's not Robin.

 

He's Dick Grayson.

 

He's a boy from the circus. He's the foster son of a wealthy man. He's a lost man with too many responsibilities, too many eyes staring at him with expectations, with hope and needs and _god, it's too much, why can't they just leave him alone until he figures himself out?_

 

Is that why it feels good? To watch that idolization drain, drop by drop, from his eyes? No expectations, the hero worship fading away and leaving behind a disgust that knocks him back. It's like pressing a bruise, the satisfying throb in overtaxed muscles. He doesn't want idolization, adoration, expectations. He doesn't know who he is, who he wants to be.

 

He's Robin.

 

He's not Robin.

 

Jason Todd is Robin.

 

Jason Todd is violent, and angry, and hates the police and that kind of stings but Dick – he breathes it in like clean air after a sewer crawl. Jason Todd is what Dick is afraid of, the explosion of violence and Jason doesn't cower from it, didn't run from Gotham with a chip the size of a city block on his shoulder and 'Fuck Batman's dripping from his tongue.

 

Dick hates him. Jason. Hates that he idolizes Bruce, makes excuses for Bruce's controlling paranoia, brushes off the fucking tracker lodged in his arm.

 

Dick hates that Bruce has pulled the wool over another kid's eyes – not a kid. Jason is nineteen. Nineteen and angry and he doesn't look up to Dick with awe shining in his eyes. Like Rachel. Like Gar. Like Kory sometimes when he lets himself be honest for a moment with her, when her warm hands are on his skin and she's smiling at him like she cares. She does care. Dick's starting to think she's got the most heart he's ever seen in a person, she can't possibly be human.

 

_Who the fuck are you?_

 

Jason spits it at his feet and Dick wants to shout, wants to scream that he's Robin, that he isn't, that he doesn't know who he is, can't someone just tell him because he's falling and falling and he doesn't know which way is up anymore.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Jason?” Dick looks at him, the cocky way Jason leans against the wall beside the elevator, like he owns the building.

 

_He belongs here. Bruce gave him access, he just let himself up, he's the new Robin, the better Robin and Dick has been locked out, shut out. Jason is Robin. Dick is Robin and he's not Robin._

 

Jason doesn't look like he wants to be here. Its been almost two weeks, and looking at that young and arrogant face, Dick can still hear the agonizing cry of the innocent cop as Jason _broke his fucking spine just because he could._

 

Jason shrugs. He's in a red hoodie this time; it looks like blood. His mouth (peachy, full mouth) tugs down, not quite a frown and hovering somewhere at 'I really don't give a shit.' “Bruce wanted me to tell you he hooked Clay up. New digs, other side of the country where Zucco's kid ain't going to find him.”

 

Of course. It's just like Bruce to do an act of good and use it to fire back at someone, at Dick, to strike them in a soft spot. It's petty and passive aggressive. It's Bruce's signature, through and through.

 

“That's good,” Dick says, and hopes that's enough. That Jason will go and he won't let himself back in again. He's glad Kory took Rachel and Gar out, that the penthouse is empty because Dick didn't have the heart to tell the kids what Jason did. He told Kory, she'd understand, but Rachel and Gar liked Jason too much. Dick doesn't want to tell them the truth, but he doesn't want to see them fawning over 'Robin 2.0'.

 

A pair of soft blue eyes stares him down, Jason’s waiting. Nineteen, young, attractive, and there's a danger hovering over him. That anger taking a palpable form. “Well?” His pink lips form the word, the voice sharp with a sneer. Jason doesn't idolize him now. He's angry and he's violent and he's everything, everything Dick felt himself becoming when he put on the mask but Jason embraces it.

 

Dick swallows, takes his eyes from Jason's mouth, cuts himself off from the warm, sticky feeling starting to congeal inside of him. “Well what?”

 

“Aren't you going to thank him? He did one hell of a solid for you, man. He cares, you're just too much of an asshole to notice.” Jason says it like it's simple, like Bruce would never use an act of kindness to cut someone else. He's naive. Dick hates him.

 

“He didn't do it out of the goodness of his own heart, Jason,” Dick says, because he's still trying to make him understand. Judging by the tight way Jason purses his mouth (and Dick is looking at it again, Dick is thinking about the way it wrapped around the bottle of beer, the way his tongue slipped into the opening to catch it before it slid into his mouth) he's not buying it. “He did it so I’d owe him.”  
  
“All the shit he did for you, you do owe him,” Jason snaps. He shoves away from the wall, gets into Dick's space like before, invading the personal bubble until Dick can smell the cinnamon gum he'd been chewing on his way up. “He gave you a home, and you just ran off because you couldn't fucking cut it. The least you can do is give him a fucking thank you.”  
  
Dick hates him. The sticky feeling is growing, solidifying in his gut. This fucking brat, he thinks he's got it all figured out, that he knows Bruce. “How long have you been with him, Jason? A year? I was with him for _ten_. I know how he thinks, I know how he operates, and he didn't do this to be nice. He did it to get back at me, to make me owe him one so he can call me up at his convenience like a fucking dog.”

 

Dick shakes his head, leaning back, because he's seen how Jason takes a challenge. He meets it head on, with single minded determination to come out on top. “You don't get it, kid. He's just using you.”

 

It's the wrong thing to say, Dick can see it the moment the word 'kid' registers to Jason. His eyes light up with fire and he shoves, knocks Dick back a step. “I'm not some fucking dumb kid, asshole. Who the fuck do you think you are? The Robin that quit, that couldn't take it anymore, so he became a fucking cop. A pig. Useless and pathetic. You couldn't even keep your own partner alive.”

 

Knuckles meet soft mouth and the sticky feeling is a rock inside of him and there's a fire roaring in Dick's ears. Jason falls back, hits the polished cement floor but he's up before Dick can draw his fist back, and there's blood on his lip and Dick can't breathe. He wants to lick it off.

 

Jason smiles, baring his teeth like a vicious dog. “That the best you got? Come on, Grayson, fucking fight me. Show me what was so fucking great about you.”

 

“Jason-” He doesn't want to fight. The way his heart pounds in his chest is less like a fight and more like feeling Kory's hand on his skin. Jason licks his mouth. Dick stares.

 

Jason sees.

 

He throws a punch of his own, and it's wide and a little too sloppy – it's only a year, Jason doesn't know how to fight someone more experienced yet. Dick ducks it easily, grabbing the arm and knocking Jason into the bar stools. They clang and screech in the bare loft. “Jason, stop! You can't win this.”

 

“The fuck I can't!” Diving it, a swivel and a kick that gets Dick in the hip but he rolls with it, brushes off the worst of the damage. Jason's licking the blood from his split bottom lip, and that's Dick's handiwork, he did that, he battered that peachy mouth. Fuck him. Fuck Jason and his shitty attitude and fuck Bruce for throwing this kid at him and for being blind to Jason's obvious issues.

 

He grabs Jason, pulls him into the knee that goes right into his gut and the breath escapes Jason with a heavy 'UHF' but all it gets Dick is a skull to the chin when Jason straightens. Teeth clack, tongue caught and split and now it's Dick's turn to taste blood, hot and coppery in his mouth. His hands loosen on Jason's hoodie and Jason rams the flat of his palm into his collarbone, making it creak and forcing Dick back.

 

It's a dirty fight, clawed hands and slamming elbows into tender places and boxing ears. Dick wants to hurt him, wants to teach Jason a lesson about playing with the big boys; wants to shove something in that mouth to shut him up.

 

The beer bottle flashes into his mind again, Jason's mouth around it, sinking down on it, getting wet and red and fucking it, and Dick seizes up, open to the tackle that sends him down, head rebounding like a basketball off the concrete. Pain ricochets around his skull once, twice, spotlights dotting his vision.

 

He smells cinnamon. An arm across his neck threatens to crush his windpipe, Dick gasps. “Jason-”

 

“You been starin' at it for the past ten minutes, Dick. You want to just admit you like my mouth?”

 

Shock knocks all the fight out of him. He blinks, bringing Jason into focus, choking on the cinnamon. Jason's lip is still bleeding, and there's a bruise growing dark on his cheekbone, just beneath one of those burning eyes. Dick can feel his nose throbbing. His tongue is still tender at the tip where Jason made him bite it.

 

Burning, skin scorching like he's caught in the blast of Kory's powers. “Jason-!”

 

“You want to fuck my mouth?”

 

Fuck _fuck_ and fuck again. Dick closes his eyes, tries to wipe away the image when the beer bottle becomes something thicker and longer and wetter. “I don't-”

 

“Don't sweat it, _bro_ , you're not the first one to want it.” Jason laughs, and it sounds like the serrated edge of a hunting knife. “You're not the first one I'd let do it.”

 

Oh. Oh, he doesn't need to hear this. He doesn't need to think about Jason – nineteen and attractive and young – on his knees with a man's cock filling his mouth. “ _Jason-_ ”

 

“All that shit about trying to keep me safe, and you've been wanting to shove your cock down my throat this entire time. Fucking pervert.”

 

There's no use in telling Jason that he didn't want it before, that it never even occurred to him except in the abstract, objective way that he admires most attractive people. It doesn't matter because it's not what Dick thinks now, it's not what the sticky, hot feeling in his gut has been crying out for since the moment Jason sauntered through the elevator door.

 

A hand dives into Jason's sweat damp hair and yanks him down so Dick can suck the blood from his split lip.

 

There's nothing nice, nothing tender, about the way Dick kisses Jason. He likes his kisses slow, and romantic, with candlelight or warm yellow streetlight as he takes the first kiss.

 

It's just another level of their fight. Jason makes a soft noise against Dick's mouth that vibrates his lips and he fists Dick's shirt, shifting to straddle Dick. He kisses well – he kisses like a pro, sucking at Dick's tongue when it dares to press at his mouth, stealing Dick's breath until his head is spinning.

 

Dick doesn't want to know where Jason learned to kiss like this, how a nineteen year old can steal a grown man's breath away from him. Jason lived on the streets, survived somehow. There's a lot of ways a boy can survive on the street.

 

They part with a sucking noise, Jason tearing from Dick's hold and sacrificing a few strands of hair to do so. They cling to Dick's sweaty palm, dark and curling. He's staring, Jason's blood smeared across his lips like some parody of lipstick. “Jason,” he says, and nothing else because he doesn't know what he wants to say – what he could say. He just kissed him, and Jason kissed him back, and Jason is shifting himself down and passing over the erection that's threatening to break through the zipper of his jeans.

 

The friction sends an electric jolt up through him. Dick's head cracks the concrete again, a strangled moan rising from his bruised chest. Jason's serrated laugh meets his ears again, and before Dick can stop him he's got Dick's jeans open and is pulling out his cock. Jason whistles, impressed. “Shit. I thought you were just compensating with the bo-staff.”

 

It's such a stupid, benign statement that Dick laughs, the sound escaping him with a hysterical edge. It ends in a gurgle when tight, wet heat encloses over the tip of his cock, and Jason fucking takes it all, sliding down until his nose is buried in the hair around the base. Dick forgets how to breathe.

 

“Shit- Oh my go- _Fuck_.” He shoves up onto an elbow, eyes landing on the top of Jason's bobbing head and it's awful. No, this isn't happening. He isn't getting a blowjob from the new Robin, this absolute brat with no sense of morals that takes things too far. He's not enjoying it, either.

 

Rachel's right, he is really good at lying. Dick almost convinces himself, right up until Jason takes him to the root, shoving Dick down his throat and humming.

 

He almost comes right then and there, almost shoots down Jason's throat, and just barely halts at the razor's edge. Jason looks up at him, peering through eyelashes too thick and too dark for Dick's sanity, and Dick can see it now, the way his cock stretches Jason's lips into a wide, wet O. It's filthy.

 

Jason pulls back with a pop, sprawled between Dick's splayed legs, a train of spit bridging his blood slicked mouth to the tip of Dick's throbbing erection. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this,” he says, and his voice is rough and husky and Dick feels a hot yank in his gut because he did that, his cock in Jason's mouth is the reason Jason sounds wrecked.

 

And then Jason's comment catches on and something cold tries to wriggle through the heat scorching his body. “What do you-”

 

Jason sucks him in again, hot and wet and so sudden Dick almost swallows his tongue. Jason is too good at this, making Dick wonder again. He needs to turn off the thoughts. They'd be as effective as a cold shower, but that's exactly the problem – Dick is too far in to want this to stop.

 

He slips fingers through Jason's hair again, curls twining around the digits. His hips tremble, Jason keeps a solid grip around one, and Dick knows he's going to hell for this. “Like- Like that,” he murmurs, guiding Jason down again. It's apparently the right thing to say, because a full body tremble shakes Jason apart and he attacks Dick's cock with a hungry vigor. Dick _whimpers_. “Fuck, Jason. Fuck- Jay, god.”

 

He hasn't been able to tear his eyes away, enraptured with the way Jason's lips get redder and wetter as he fucks his mouth down onto Dick, works his cock like a master at his craft. It takes Dick a moment to see the awkward way Jason's shoulder is moving, to look down and realize he's got his hand in his jeans and he's jerking himself off, moving in rapid, sharp strokes.

 

It's enough to rocket Dick over the edge, just enough time for him to try to push Jason back with a strangled, “I'm gonna-” but Jason _growls_ at him and tightens his lips around the head and Dick releases a weak, pitiful noise and comes into thick, hot ropes into Jason's mouth. It lasts for an hour, it's over in the blink of an eye, and Jason's suckling his cock until it twitches before he's pulling off, shoving onto his knees to kiss Dick.

 

Dick's mouth opens with a whine, and Jason's tongue dips in, tasting salty and musky and leaving behind something thick across Dick's. His own come. Dick sucks it off, sucks Jason's tongue the way Jason just worked over his cock and Jason whimpers into his mouth and shakes. Dick feels something hit his abdomen where his shirt has shoved upwards, hot and dripping down his skin. Pulls back and looks down to watch Jason milk his orgasm out of himself, his spunk sticky across his knuckles and staining Dick's shirt.

 

Jason's cock is long and the same peachy pink at the tip as his lips. Dick's still out of his mind because he reaches down to flick a thumb over the slit, gathering up a bead of come and bringing it to his mouth. Jason tastes sweeter, or maybe Dick's just orgasm high.

 

And then it comes down, hard and cold, and Dick is frozen in place as Jason gets to his feet, throwing Dick a smug grin as he pads to the bathroom, cock dangling from his open jeans.

 

The concrete is cold, and hard, seeping through the seat of Dick's jeans. Jason's come is drying sticky on his skin, his shirt probably completely ruined. Dick feels chilled, his mind endlessly playing the loop of that smirk on Jason's fucked swollen mouth as the sink in the bathroom starts up.

 

He feels used, like Jason planned this all along, like he manipulated the circumstances to put them in exactly this position and make sure he has this awful, terrible thing to hold over Dick. It's the kind of thing Bruce would have done, to pigeon hole someone where he wants them and exploit them.

 

Dick has the uncomfortable realization that Jason is very much like Bruce, teasing and playing and taunting until he gets what he wants.

 

But it's worse than that, because he's made sure Dick wants to let himself get played again.

 

The smirk haunts him long after Jason's left.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The eagle eyed might have noticed that I said Dick was with Bruce for 10 years, instead of 15. I'm not really buying Titans storyline of Dick being roughly 28 years old, so I've aged him down to about 24. It makes more sense both where he is as a person, and his age gap with Jason.


End file.
